Last but not least here's a big collection of various AU dumps that are disconnected or unrelated to anything else. Thank you for having patience with me as I uploaded all these!

Until Dawn au - It's been a year since Fundy and Tommy disappeared into the shady forests on Blackwood Mountain. Wilbur can't let them go.

"You came back. Why?"

Wilbur smiles and lets some air escape through his clenched teeth, not quite an exhale but enough to see swirls of white. It's cold as hell on the mountain - but then again it's always cold up here.

It was cold that night too, maybe that's why he's out without a jacket. Self-inflicted punishment in its purest form.

"And you're still here," he says, leaving the question unanswered. Does Techno even need the explanation? Perhaps he's just being contentious.

Last year, he was the one who pulled Wilbur back from the storm. He was the one who slipped a scarf on him and took him inside to warm pale clammy fingers by the fire. He was the one who said searching would be futile.

He was the one who told Wilbur to give up hope.

"I'm always here." Techno shifts the flamethrower on his arm, grunting a little under the weight. The propane tank attached to his belt protests the movement. "Go back down, Wilbur. Please."

"Why would I do that when I have guests to prepare for." He tries to walk past the other man, only to be stopped by a hand against his shoulder.

Techno looks at him with dull eyes, dark and narrowed. "You have no idea what's going on up here, do you? You don't even know what you're messing with."

Wilbur grabs his wrist to shove him off. Techno lets him, though Wilbur is sure that if he wanted to Techno could probably overpower him easily. "I know I have to do this."

"You don't." Techno steps in front of him instead. "You really don't, Wil."

And when Wilbur catches the front of Techno's coat to slam him into a tree, Techno lets him do it too, doesn't even flinch.

"You don't get to call me that name!" He's shouting, almost drowned out by the vast silence of the mountain. Everything is so dark and empty. The same as it was that night. "You don't get to fucking speak to me after you left them to die."

"They were already dead," Techno answers - calm as can be.

"You don't know that!" Wilbur reels, almost lets go before clenching tighter, not so much holding Techno now as clutching on for his own sake. "I could have found them, I could have saved them! If you hadn't stopped me from going, I could have-"

"Except you couldn't." With one elbow, Techno pushes him off. Wilbur stumbles back, almost slips in the snow. Tears are hot in his eyes, contrasting the chill of the cold air. "They were dead as soon as they set foot outside, Wilbur. It was already too late. There's nothing we could have done for them, either of us."

"If telling yourself that makes you feel better, keep doing it."

Techno stares at him and for one tense moment, Wilbur thinks he's about to retaliate. He blinks stubbornly but keeps back from rubbing at his eyes with his sleeves.

Then Techno turns around, slipping the mask back over his face. "Fundy and Tommy are gone, Wilbur. And the sooner you realize that, the better it will be for all of us."

Moments later the darkness of the mountain has swallowed him again. And Wilbur is left alone with nothing but the snow to blind his fury.

Blood God's cult AU - Mumbo and Techno are brothers in everything except parentage, raised in the same cult as children. They escaped together, though not before the ritual of making a conduit was successful.

1.

"Why did you cut it?"

Mumbo's hands go still. They linger but don't do much more than loosely hold onto Techno's hair and gently weave it through long fingers. Techno remembers admiring those hands and how fast they could nock an arrow, how easily they could slip around the leather of throwing knives.

How quick they were with the kill. Mumbo doesn't do that anymore, he's been told.

"I guess…" Mumbo stops, then starts braiding again. He is just as careful as Techno remembers him being when they were kids and maybe he finds satisfaction in knowing at least one thing stayed the same. "I guess I wanted to leave that part of me behind. I know it's stupid."

Techno hums. "Did it work?"

"No."

They were younger then, and just as scarred. They shared a room and often shared a bed too, using the other one to dump their stuff on. There was only one blanket but they were small enough to fit under it together if Techno curled up and put his head on Mumbo's chest and Mumbo folded his ridiculously long legs over both of Techno's.

And then they would sleep a few hours before Mumbo woke up shaking, breathing ragged. Techno didn't ask what the nightmare had been about - not after the first time.

Instead, he would pull Mumbo up and sit behind him and ever so lightly brush his nails through dark hair. They didn't have any scissors so it had been growing out ever since Mumbo was brought to the family and Techno's was already long anyway. He'd braid it - slowly, taking his time.

Mumbo talked about something, whatever was on his mind to distract himself with. Redstone was a favorite subject of his and when Techno was done he rested his chin on Mumbo's shoulder, wrapped his arms around him from behind and closed his eyes while the other continued rambling about all the plans, all the little ideas he would put into action if they ever got out of there.

When they got out of there.

Techno couldn't say he understood the technicalities of it, but he understood the way Mumbo's hands gestured and his eyes got more vivid when he talked about something he loved. And when the roles were reversed - which they were, occasionally - he knew Mumbo would do the same for him. Listen endlessly while Techno ranted about some book he'd gotten into, some tale that fascinated him.

They would braid each other's hair and they would feel safe for a little while.

"You're thinking I'm an idiot, right? For even trying to get away from all that." Mumbo says these things like he means them, laughing at himself. Self-hatred shimmering beneath the surface.

Techno doesn't need to turn around and look at him to know.

"Nah," he says. "It's a nice thought, to think it'd be possible."

Even if they both know it isn't.

2.

They traveled through the night so they could sleep during the day.

Only Mumbo really slept though. Technoblade sat and kept watch, scratching at his arms. He was kept awake by the voices, he said.

The ritual had been five days ago. Mumbo remembered how scared he was when they came and took Techno from the room. All those other children who had been called on before, none of them ever came back.

(and Mumbo knew what the big pit outside was for. He knew why the adults set it on fire every Sunday. Mumbo wouldn't ever forget the stench of coals left aflame with burning flesh)

Technoblade smiled at him as they took him away. He was proud - proud to finally be able to do what they had been raised to do all along. But Mumbo was just frightened. He knew he should be happy, should be celebrating. Being chosen was a good thing, Mumbo should be wanting it too.

(he didn't, though)

But unlike the others, Techno did come back. Eyes hollow and face pale and still smiling. The adults just kind of shoved him into the room, then left to figure out what had gone wrong. The ritual had failed, they had not found the perfect vessel they were searching for. They had not been reborn.

Despite that, however, Techno had survived. Perhaps since he was Netherborn - the Blood God's natural domain - mercy had been bestowed on him and where touching the divine would tear others limb from limb, it hadn't killed him.

In the darkness of their room that night, Technoblade told Mumbo he had become a conduit and could hear the Blood God's chorus. He was destined to lead the cult in search of a vessel forever.

In the darkness of their room that night, Mumbo told Technoblade that he had heard how he would be the next chosen. The ritual would kill him, Mumbo did not doubt that for a second.

In the darkness of their room that night, they decided to leave together.

They didn't have much in the way of possessions. There was no use in holding onto things when you were supposed to be reborn. But what they had was shoved into a linen sack, and Techno had stolen a knife from the kitchen for protection, and then the two of them had snuck out and started running.

Mumbo didn't know if they were searching for them. There were other children, always. Always other children to take. But there was only one conduit. Mumbo was nothing special but Techno was, yet the idea of leaving him never once crossed his mind.

(not as they were then, kids. Young and bruised and desperate. Later, much later, Techno would once again sneak away. Leave Mumbo a note to tell him how much happier and safer he would be without Techno around)

Just in case though they rested when the sun sat high. When darkness made them harder to spot, they walked. Ages and ages, not wanting to settle down anywhere close enough to be found.

As they watched the sunset, Mumbo crept closer to Techno's side.

He was warm - Netherborn, Netherblood - and Mumbo tucked so easily against him. "Didn't sleep again?"

"Hm, they're loud." Techno stared at him. His eyes used to be gold like all piglin eyes were. Now they were red. "They don't like me ignoring them."

"You should name them," Mumbo laughed. "Since you're stuck with them I guess. And they'd want a name."

"They would." Techno didn't move, hardly even breathed. Mumbo pretended not to notice.

"What about uh… Chat? Since they love chattering a whole bunch."

As the last rays of sunlight had disappeared over the horizon Techno stood, stretched his legs. "That works." He winced, put one hand to his forehead. The voices were probably being loud and Techno hadn't learned how to tune them out to control their volume. "Yeah, it's clear they approve."

"Oh, great." Mumbo got up too. "Wouldn't really know what to do if they hadn't."

Techno grabbed his hand. "Let's go." Mumbo nodded.

Together, they made off into the night.

Origin SMP - Witherblade backstory

When the prince first fell ill, word of it was sent out across the entire kingdom

Any doctor - scholar or quack alike - who would manage to concoct a cure for the disease of withering that had befallen the prince was promised an award the likes of which had never been heard of before. Jewels and gold more than a single man could reasonably carry. Stretches of beautiful and fertile land to settle on. A whole collection of servants to wait on their every whim. Even the hand of the fairest gentleman or maiden of choice to take in holy matrimony was offered. All of it would be theirs if they only managed to cure the royal heir.

Thus many attempted it. From all corners of the country came flocking a whole line of professionals claiming they had the specific expertise needed to cure the prince.

And with every potion they tried, the prince grew weaker. And with every poultice smeared on blackened, decomposing skin and every magic spell failing to make a change, the king and queen lost their hope.

Their son was dying. Cursed by a flower of death, pricked by its torn and consumed by its rot.

Maybe that was why the stranger had such an easy time slipping into their midst. Maybe that was why when a man with flowing robes of green and great black wings came to court and offered to share his knowledge, not a voice dare raise in doubt.

Because hope was already running thin.

The queen let the man into her son's room, the air heavy with the smell of incense. Even with the windows wide open, it did nothing to conceal the stench of infection. The prince laid motionless on the bed, long pink hair braided over one shoulder, tender skin even paler than it usually was. His breaths came in shallow exhales, the royals doctor's medicine keeping him in a deep sleep to ward of the withering disease's pain.

The pillows were arranged around him almost as if he were a statue, the entire scene so horribly artificial it gave the man pause. He took one look and his face fell in grim realization.

"He is dying," the man said. "He is already too far gone."

Words that the queen had long been expecting, yet still struck her down with grief.

But the man smiled and shed his overcoat and hat, pulled his sleeves up to his elbows.

"I can not undo what is already done," he said. "But I can make it so he lives."

"Anything," she begged. For the pride of a queen is nothing in comparison to the despair of a mother.

"All I ask in return," he said to her, "is that you give him this. And tell him that if he ever wants answers, he can find me."

He handed her a compass of brass and gold, inlaid with decorative feathers. The queen did not know where it pointed at, or why. All she knew was that her son would be saved if she took it - so she did.

The man told her to leave the room. Arcane magic was rarely safe for mortal eyes to look upon. She closed the door behind her and sat outside, waited for hours through the noise and the rummaging, and then through an eerie silence that could cut into her very soul. When night had fallen and the torches throughout the castle were being lit, she could finally hold her curiosity no longer and peeked inside.

And what she found there was worse than she could have imagined.

The man was gone, not a trace left of him aside from the curtains billowing in the breeze. And her greatest love - her son - lay motionless and still, even the rising of his chest no longer present.

The prince had died.

It is said the entire city could hear her cries of anguish. That three men had to come and lead her away, pry the prince's cold body from her hands. They put him to rest with candles burning and a cloth to cover his face. They took off the gold jewelry he'd worn in death and loosened his hair to fall freely on the pillows.

The queen wept all night, she did not sleep. The compass was thrown against the wall in misplaced rage - with whispers spreading that the man had realized he could not cure the prince and had fled through the window to escape the queen's ire. She did not care why he had abandoned her so cruelly.

Her son was dead.

Then morning came and the servants would bring her downstairs, would implore her to at least eat. There was no hunger in sorrow, no food that could tempt her when heartbreak was all she felt.

Until the door opened, and through it came her son.

Some ran away, others remained frozen in shock. The queen could do naught but fall into his embrace, and press her hands to his cold cheeks. There was not the beating of a heart in his chest, nor the stirring of life in his lungs. His eyes of gentle brown had the glow of some otherworldly power to them.

But he lived, just as the winged man had promised.

(And years later, perhaps the kingdom would fall and the prince would flee that ruinous place. And he would follow the compass his mother had kept hidden from him all that time, to find the truth about his withered soul.

But that is a tale for another day.)

OSMP - Bee Tubbo shows Warden Techno some flowers

Carrying the big basket slowed Tubbo down, making his wings flutter in rapid bursts to help him keep his balance, hoping he wouldn't fall over. Technoblade turned to him when he got close enough to be heard by the warden, hands already reaching for the redstone switch in the wall.

With a quick flick, a low light flooded the cave. Phil had installed it so people visiting Techno wouldn't have to do so in near-darkness, though it had taken him a while to figure out how to make it work. Techno's presence tended to disrupt redstone.

"Okay, Big T. I got a whole bunch of them for you."

"You didn't have to," Techno said. His head turned to track Tubbo's movements, but he was wearing his blindfold.

"No, I did." Tubbo put the basket down, sitting cross-legged behind it. "You said you didn't know about flowers, I wasn't just gonna leave you clueless about one of the coolest things ever."

"I know what flowers are. I just said I don't know the difference between them, because, well…" He pointed at the blindfold, as if Tubbo would have missed that. Then he came over to sit down too.

"And that's very upsetting so here I am to fix it." He started digging through the flowers he'd cut. "How's your sense of smell?"

"Terrible," Techno deadpanned. His antennae twitched with every noise Tubbo made.

It made sense then that Techno wouldn't know shit about flowers - if he couldn't see them nor smell them. Flowers didn't make noise either. But Tubbo was here to solve that.

"Okay, let's see then. Oh, these are fun." He picked up a late-flowering dandelion, the fluffy white seeds having replaced the flowerhead. "Don't pinch too hard."

He handed it to Technoblade, guiding him into holding the stem with one hand and touching the bulb with his other.

"It's soft," Techno said, voice slightly pitched with surprise.

"It is! It's actually the seeds, they get carried away on the wind and then more flowers grow. If you blow on them you get a wish."

"They won't grow here," Techno said. The cave was made of unforgiving stone and no sunlight would reach.

"Probably not. Here's what they're like in bloom." He exchanged the flower in Techno's hand for a younger one, bright yellow petals moved between his fingers. He traced each leaf individually as if mapping out what they looked like.

"It's pretty," he said after a moment. Tubbo beamed, picking up another.

"Yes! This one's my favorite though. It's called a Poppy." Techno felt it for a moment. In the silence of the cave, Tubbo could just barely hear the beating of the soulheart that sat in his open chest, currently concealed by his shirt.

"What color is it?" Techno asked after a moment.

"Red."

"And what do you do with them?"

"Well, I eat them." Tubbo popped one of the flowers from the basket into his mouth, chewing until the sweet nectar made him thrill. "But I don't think a lot of other people do."

Techno stuck out his tongue, experimentally placing the poppy on it. He spit it out again immediately, cringing. "Yeah, no thanks."

Tubbo laughed, pulling the basket closer. "You can also just put them up for decorations. If you want, I can help? We could string them along the walls or something."

"I think that'd be preferable to eating them," Techno said lightly.

"Or, hold still I got an idea!"

Getting up to walk around Techno, Tubbo grabbed a handful of flowers first. With slow movements - trying not to startle the warden by any sudden touches - he tucked the flowers into Techno's braid, winding the stems thigh enough that they wouldn't fall loose easily.

"There," he said when he was done. Techno's long, pale pink braid was adorned with several different flowers.

Techno smiled, reaching up to feel them settled in his hair. "Thank you."

"I'm gonna nab some goldstring from Boo," Tubbo said, already off towards the cave's entrance. "Then we can hang up the rest. I'll be right back."

And Techno stayed in his cave, surrounded by flowers he couldn't see but still appreciated.